


Died Last Night In My Dreams

by Kali_Blue



Series: A World in Red [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst?, Dalish, F/M, Friendship, Grumpy Dracolisks, M/M, Mystery, Post-Apocalypse, Romance, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kali_Blue/pseuds/Kali_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fen is a nomadic elf hiding a secret half of Thedas would kill for.  Kieran is a half-mad mage who's soul is bound to an ancient spirit. After the Seeker order leaves the human mage half-dead in the wilderness, both Fen and Kieran find themselves relying on each others company for survival. As their relationship deepens and both are forced on the run from orders that would rather see them dead than in the hands of their enemies, Kieran and Fen are confronted with a choice that neither may be willing to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The World is Ending

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 3 of "A World in Red'. While it would help to have read the two previous short stories for some context, It shouldn't be to hard to follow along if you start from here. 
> 
> For quick reference, this story assumes the lyrium-infested world that was created in the Inquisition quest, 'In Hushed Whispers', continues after the Inquisitor and Dorian fix the time-travel spell created by Alexius. Just a slight warning that my story does take a few liberties with the Dragon Age universe in order to make it work. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Kieran was ten when the world ended.

He’d lived at court at the time – rarely seen and almost never heard. He was a quiet boy, or so most people thought of him. To the nobility that was certainly the case. Better that way, really, both for himself and his mother. Court was cruel, he knew that, but being the favourite of the empress provided a layer of protection for them both. Not that it stopped the two from being an object of gossip, of sideways sneers and turned backs. It didn’t stop the painful pinches and cruel taunts from other children. Still, if Kieran kept his head down and tried to pretend he didn’t exist, in most cases nobles were happy to oblige him.

He was the son of the Witch of the Wilds, and therefore beneath the notice of the nobility. And so he lived in relative peace.

He was also a curious boy. If his head wasn’t buried in a book he exploring every nook and cranny of the palace, snaking his way through its winding passages, eavesdropping on conversations that he shouldn’t. The palace had always been a veritable fountain of gossip. Kieran had always found it infinitely interesting to eavesdrop on conversations about which lord or lady was having an affair behind a spouse’s back. Or overhear heated exchanges on which of the nobility were out of favour with the empress. Sad to say, Kieran lost his innocence by the time he was nine.

Those days were not to last.

The Breach seemed like such a piffling thing in comparison. Life went on even after the Breach had opened up a great gaping hole in the sky. Oh, people died and lives were destroyed. Rifts opened up all over Thedas on a daily basis and the nobles gossiped about the rise of a new order. The Inquisition, they called it, and their Herald, spoken about in hushed whispers with a combination of fear and awe. Kieran had heard stories of a great hero who could close Rifts by the mere raising of her hands.

This, though, had been different. The lyrium infestation had not been quick and sudden. All knew about the spell cast at Redcliffe and rumours of the rise of the Elder One, but, still, no one had really believed it. The nobility continued to play their games even as his mother had grown more and more worried over the coming weeks. Even as tales of the infected and the mad, of the rise of Red Templars, of once magnificent forests completely razed and blackened as red lyrium swept Ferelden. What did it matter to them? Orlais was untouchable. The palace walls impenetrable. The might of the nobility infinite.

But nothing lasts forever, and even Kieran knew that.

The madness that crept into the court was slow at first. It had started with nightmares, with duchesses jumping at ghosts and lords stopping from conversations in hallways to seemingly stare at nothing. Kieran himself, who had been particularly sensitive to lyrium at the time, had awoken in his bed screaming one night. He dreamt of a sea of monsters - a black mass of tangled, monstrous limbs and endless crimson eyes reaching out for him. Threatening to swallow him whole. The young boy shot up in his bed, arms flailing wildly as he took in great gasping breaths. A dream, he reassured himself. All a dream. Kieran raised his hands to rub his face – only to realise a startled second later that he was weeping.

 _Not supposed to be. Not supposed to be,_ a voice from inside himself murmured, the entity that had been apart of him all his life. If Kieran didn’t know any better he would thought his other half sounded… distraught. _She arrived too early, far too early. Why? Why would she? Why did she?_

‘What?’

 _Not supposed to be!_ The creature hissed and Kieran was faced with old, old eyes and so much anger. Kieran screamed in fear and curled into a ball out of instinct, but there was little he could do to save himself from… himself. Old as time was his other half, destroyer of souls and even a god once. A good god once. The spirit within him was usually kind to Kieran. Not now, however, and with the spirit trapped and bound within his soul he could do little more than scream and rage and cause a young boy incredible pain.

And yet, there was one thing Kieran understood even through his other half’s incoherent raging and babbling. Something was wrong with the world. Something so, so wrong.

Outside of himself, doors were flung open with such force they were almost forced off their hinges. Kieran raised his head and stared as his mother stomped into their sleeping chambers, her usually steely glare replaced by a look of amber-eyed alarm. Part of her gown was torn down the middle, leaving her legs exposed, but modesty had never really been an issue with his mother. Her usually neatly pinned hair trailed in messy waves just past her shoulders.

Coldness gripped his belly as his mother knelt beside him, voice icy calm even if the look in her eyes was anything but, ‘grab something warm, Kieran. We are leaving. Now.’

‘Why?’ He knew why, oh, of course he did. It was an almost pointless question. His mother’s eyes snapped to meet his and narrowed.

She knew that he knew. His mother had always known that he knew far more than what a child should. She was not judgmental, though, never questioned why he knew things that he shouldn’t. And she answered as though Kieran were an adult instead of ten, ‘tis’ the Red Lyrium. I knew it was just a matter of time before it reached Orlais but I thought… silly me, I thought we’d have more time. The court has gone mad, Kieran, and everyone is killing each other as we speak. We have to leave.’

Shaking, he swung his legs to the side of the bed. He’d deal with his other half later, ‘where are we going?’  

His mother gave him a bitter smile, ‘the one place I swore never to take you.’


	2. Walking through Red

In the age of the Elder One, clear skies were not always a good thing.

Clear emerald skies, like now, could also mean a swirling vortex could appear an instant later, and one could quickly find themselves surrounded and torn to pieces by demons or darkspawn. Sometimes both. I’d seen it happen, more than once. And even with no Rifts or Breaches around one was always at risk, whether it be from Seekers or Red Templars or just the normal infected. I’d been a nomad all my life and learned that, as a lyrium-infected elf in the age of the rule of the Elder One, there was no safe haven I could turn and no one who would take me in if I was in trouble. Not even to provide a brief period of respite from a sick and dying world. 

As Kieran and I trudged through dead trees towards an open clearing, I glanced around half-heartedly. There was nothing here that I hadn’t seen before. A dead clearing host to little more than dilapidated cottages and blackened fields riddled with red lyrium nodes. A farm once, I suppose. The trees surrounding the area were infested with lyrium veins. It was eerily quiet - no animals in sight or within the range of my keen hearing.

We were accosted by a Red Templar not even a minute of entering the area. Alone, thank goodness, but quite mad, which was not so good. While Red Templars had been known to travel alone across Ferelden, more often than not they travelled in patrols, and I’d say this one had been abandoned to his fate. There was no intelligence or self-awareness or those red eyes, and certainly no sense of self-preservation. It was pure, animalistic instinct that drove him on, large, monstrous claws waving in the air as he stomped towards me and Kieran. The last thing I needed was to get pinned between those heavy monstrous limbs.

‘Distract him for me.’ Kieran shouted as he disappeared from my side, the tone only slightly below an order. I snuffed out my annoyance as I threw aside my pack. Yes, I’d been on my own too long, and reached over my shoulder for my staff.  Rather than draw on my mana reserves I let my staff do the work for me, directing a brief deluge of fireballs at the templar, but quickly realised my error.

Stupid. I’d been far too stingy in my attack. In trying to save my magic and the reserves I’d stored in my staff, I’d held back, and they hit templar’s armour before bouncing off harmlessly.  The templar didn’t pause, and instead showed his black teeth at me in a madman’s grin.  

In a panic I took several steps backward while thrusting my instrument forward, instructing it to send out torrents of lightning. The lightning lit up the templar like a bonfire, tiny blue bolts travelling across his body like little spiders. It worked this time, and the attack forced the templar to stop as he was being electrocuted, a roar of pain bubbling from his lips.

In that brief pause my eyes flickered to the mage, who had circled around the templar and now flanked him. Kieran muttered something and a blue, gleaming sword appeared in his right hand. Quick as a flash he thrust the sword forward, through the templar’s back. I caught a glimpse of a shining blue weapon, spattered and mixed with blood, erupt through the man’s chest. The templar roared again, more in rage than in pain, and rather than force it back through Kieran called the magical sword back into himself. Clever.

Then again, perhaps not. I could see Kieran had been aiming for the templar’s heart, but the man ignored the gaping hole as though it was a bug bite.  Teeth bared, the templar whirled to confront the mage and immediately rounded on what he perceived as the greater threat. A flash of fear ripped through me. For one wild moment, I almost, almost followed the tiny voice inside that informed me to run for it.  It was a pure fight or flight instinct, one born of living a lifetime on the road. It seemed logical to my strong sense of self-preservation that I should make a run for it while the going was good. 

But no. No, I wouldn’t. I’d promised, and I always kept my promises. Instead I reached for the power of a nearby rift to draw upon - a small, swirling vortex that I also very strongly sensed lead to nightmarish part of the Fade.  It would have been teeming with demons had I cared to go exploring. 

It was not as powerful as I would have liked, but it would serve my purposes. Discarding my staff, I lifted my arms and let raw, unadulterated power thunder through my body – starting at my feet before finally bursting through my hands.

‘Kieran,’ I screamed to the mage, ‘move!’

He managed to hurl himself away just in time as a great wall of flame encircled the templar.

At first the templar spun around, confused and swinging his sword as though fighting would douse the flames. But the more I lifted my arms the higher and hotter the blaze became. Finally, the templar gave a horrible, pain-filled screech that sent a shiver up my spine before he dropped to the ground. Still backing up, Kieran could only stare comically as the templar disintegrated into ash right before his eyes.

I blinked, suddenly exhausted beyond belief and devoid of strength, but still forced myself lower my hands slowly, bit by bit, as the wall responded to my gestures and lowered itself. The last of the flames flickered away.

The footsteps of the mage as he tramped towards me were careful, wary, ‘are you alright?’

I nodded, ‘I’m good. And you?’

‘No damage,’ apart from appearing a tad more dishevelled than normal, Kieran was also blessedly free of injury. Then Kieran turned his head and eyed the still smoking pile warily. ‘Maker, there’s not even a burnt out husk left. So you like setting things alight?’

I shrugged and retrieved my staff from the ground which, luckily, was not very far away. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I do what I have to too survive.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Kieran still didn’t glance at me, still stared at the remains of the Red Templar, ‘that’s a mighty powerful spell for one so young.’ He commented in an almost nonchalant manner. It was a little _too_ casual.

‘Likewise, Knight Enchanter,’ I retorted, waving to the transparent sword in his hand. That particular magic was nothing less than a tool for killing.  I suppose it made sense, in way. It was an ancient mage specialisation, far older than mine, adapted from an old elven magic centuries ago and once held in high esteem by a now extinct nobility. As the Seekers still seemed to like to cling to old traditions like barnacles to a ship, it would have been deemed an invaluable tool for the Seekers in their quest to rid Thedas of red lyrium and the infected. 

If he didn’t want me to know what magic he specialised in before, well, it wasn’t much of a secret now. But it was a piffling thing compared to the _real_ power lurking just below the surface of his soul.

Then it dawned on me properly what he’d actually said, _one so young_ , and I blinked at him, ‘wait… how old are you?’

This time the mage _did_ face me, and the blue, iridescent sword slowly faded from his hand before disappearing. Kieran flexed his fingers instinctively, as though missing the weight of the weapon, before he dropped his arm. Despite his wariness of me the corner of his lips tilted upwards, ‘I’m probably about a decade older than you. At least,’ He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, ‘I look young for my age, don’t I?’

‘You’re thirty?’ I asked with more than a hint of scepticism. I’d met men Kieran’s age who looked twice as old as what they actually were.

He continued to chuckle the same time as a movement from trees beyond caught my eye. We both whirled around, staff at the ready, only to encounter a fretful horse staring back at us from several yards away.

A Ferelden Forder? Well, fancy that. It was horse native to region: a dark brown creature with a black mane, tail and socks. Its reins had been looped around a branch.

‘Oh my,’ my annoyance all but forgotten, I felt my lips tilt upwards in a smirk. ‘I do believe the deceased templar has left us our inheritance.’

Kieran was perplexed but still followed when I trudged across the field towards the animal. The animal stared at us with scared red eyes, the whites of its eyes showing, and strained against the branch. As we neared it I reached out a hand and began cooing.

I halted when the horse whinnied in alarm, ‘Fen, what are you doing?’

Without looking back at the mage, I said, ‘A horse, Kieran. Kali can’t carry the both of us all the time.’

‘Err, not that I’m not grateful but … it looks infected.'

‘That’s because it is,’ I said. ‘But, really, _look at it_. It’s not aggressive and it hasn’t got a glow. It’s acting like a horse should.’

‘It’s still got the red eyes and the veins.’

‘Yes, it does. And don’t we all?’

‘Kali doesn’t.’ The mage pointed out.  

I smiled sadly, ‘oh, Kieran. Yes, she does. Her eyes don’t show it yet because she’s so very young, but if you had a look under those scales you’d see the veins soon enough.’

‘Gods,’ Kieran went pale. ‘This is insane. Is most of the world doomed to die of madness?’

I paused and considered his words, half startled he would say something so obvious. The fact that most of us were doomed to die of madness had almost, sadly, become an accepted part of life among the infected. Sometimes I forgot, since he seemed to know so much, seemed so powerful, that Kieran had actually spent little of his time in the lyrium-infested wilderness of Ferelden. Not that spending half his life with the Seekers would have been easy - I’d found him half dead in the wilderness several months before. Still, that he was blessedly free of red veins and crimson eyes that characterised those of us who were not Seekers had and would continue to make him a target. 

‘Most of it, if not all,’ I responded, and moved forward the same time the horse tried to back up. ‘Still wishing you were with the Seekers?’

‘No.’ the force of the answer was surprisingly strong, and for a second he fell into a contemplative silence. Kieran seemed to make up his mind when he placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Here, Fen. Let me try. Animals like me.’

I didn’t expect him to be any more successful than I had, but I shrugged and took a step backwards, ‘go for it.’

I watched in quiet disbelief when, a short time later, Kieran had the horse not only lipping the palm of his hand, but completely docile when he swung himself into the saddle. He reached down to pat the mare’s neck. It was very hard not to feel a tiny flash of jealousy towards the older mage. It had taken me months, _months_ , of coaxing, bribes and compliments towards my dracolisk. All so she wouldn’t take a chunk of my flesh.

And Kieran had tamed an animal in a flash. Just. Lovely.

He grinned as I stared, ‘I told you animals like me.’


End file.
